


Fake Fiances and Free Cake

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Series: Fake Fiances and True Love [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake dating?, Free samples!, Humor, Romantic Fluff, Rumbelle - Freeform, Sea Devil - Freeform, Snowing - Freeform, That's a fiancee isn't it?, They're pretending to be fiance and she-fiance, i dunno, side pairings!, wedding cakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6636247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan doesn't need a man to be happy. But she does need one to get into the Bridal Fair and sample some free wedding cakes. OR at least a "fiancé" of some description. So does the guy standing beside her eyeing the same poster, come to think of it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fake Fiances and Free Cake

**Author's Note:**

> I present my first Swanfire fic based on a Tumblr prompt I saw wherein two people pretend to be getting married to crash an event for free wedding cake samples. See how many couples to recognize throughout the fic!
> 
> I would be very surprised if this wasn't something Emma and Nealfire wouldn't do in canon.

Emma Swan didn't need a man to find her happy ending. She was independent and free, and comfortable with that. Comfortable was good, if boring. Actually boring was good. Boring meant there wasn't anything crazy happening to you. Emma had her fill of crazy clawing her way out of the foster system, especially with the one foster mother that became Stephen King-Obsessed with her. Yeah, boring and comfortable weren't too bad.

So she was alone, and her dinners out were either alone or sitting across from a criminal either on bail or supposed to head into plea for bail. That's just how Emma Swan's life was.

What Emma did find important to her happiness was a good piece of cake.

Emma was an active enough woman that she didn't have to worry about fitting into her jeans if she ate cake for dinner once a week or two. It was rather annoying when she ordered a slice of cake at a restaurant and the waitress looked at her like she was wrong to be eating desert, but she was an adult, dammit, what she ate was her own damn business. Granny's Diner down on Main Street had a good chocolate cake, and an even better spice cake with cream cheese icing, but a very overrated lasagna that Ruby (Granny Lucas's granddaughter and head waitress,) once admitted was frozen.

Emma was getting ready to leave the corner booth at Granny's near the door, the one she favored to drink her hot chocolate in, when Ruby Lucas herself tottered over in her tall heels and taped up a poster in the window.

It was a two-sided poster, so you could read it from inside or outside, pale blue with swirly black letters spelling out: HAPPY ENDINGS WEDDING FAIR. The flyer went on to describe the event, how there were wedding dress designers and florists, wedding planners, representatives of venues to hold your dream wedding, honeymoon specials from travel agencies or hotels, and a bunch of other marital matters that didn't concern Emma Swan one bit...

Except for the one little blocky paragraph down above contact information:

_**Brides and grooms to be can get free samples of wedding cakes at luncheon with reservations!** _

The only problem with that was that Emma didn't have a boyfriend, much less a fiancé. (Or these days, a girlfriend might work too, but Emma didn't have one of those either.) So for the next three days, Emma passed by the poster without much thought, except that it was a shame that it didn't apply to her. On the fourth day, Emma sat in her corner booth while a man was walking by with his hot coffee, only to stop. For a minute, Emma thought he was looking at her, so she looked up to study him critically.

He wasn't too tall, or too short, maybe in his early-to-mid thirties. He had dark hair and a scruffy goatee, dark brown eyes, and olive skin. He wore a gray hoodie and jeans, and looked pretty chill standing there with his paper coffee cup. Emma realized that he was looking over her head, and that meant he was reading the wedding fair poster. Well, free country and all-

"Free cake? Damn."

Emma looked back up in time to see the man smile, and just for the hell of it, chimed, "No free cake for singles, shame about that."

"No joke," he chuckled, uncurling one finger from his cup to point at the poster. "Free cake is the best kind of cake. And cake for lunch? I'd love to crash that event."

"You still need a fake fiancé," Emma added. "That's been haunting me all week."

The man looked at her for a minute. "You need a fake date too? Mind if I sit down?"

"Well...yeah. And no. Go ahead..." Emma furrowed her brow as the stranger sat across from her, leaning on his elbows with a grin that didn't fade in the least.

"Why?"

"Name's Neal. Wanna pretend to be engaged?"

"What?" Emma blinked. "No! I don't know you, how do I know you're not some kind of pervert?"

Neal shrugged like that wasn't important. "Well I just fake-proposed to a girl to be fake-engaged to me for some real free cake. If that's perverted, that's about as bad as I get."

Emma had a very finely-tuned bullshit detector. It was good about 90% of the time, and currently, she detected no bullshit coming from the brown-eyed man across the table from her, who was giving her an honest, patient smile, like he'd be totally fine with her turning his crazy idea down. Logically Emma _should_ turn it down. Hell, what was keeping her from turning down a fake-proposal to a fake-engagement?

Oh yeah: **Free cake.**

* * *

On Sunday, Emma found herself riding along in Neal's bright yellow Volkswagen Bug to the convention center the thing was being held at. They pulled up in the parking lot at about fifteen minutes until the tasting, and Emma straightened the fair map, flyers, and proof of registration print-outs she got offline. Mainly for something to do with her hands. When the car was rolling and radio playing, it was much easier to talk. Or maybe the silence wasn't so awkward.

The radio cut off in the middle of "Only You" by Yaz, and Neal turned to her in his seat.

He was wearing a blue button-down and jeans, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Emma would admit he looked stylish in a just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-into-this sort of way.

Emma wasn't sure what a bride-to-be was supposed to wear to a wedding fair. So she ended up wearing her red leather jacket and a white top, dark jeans, and knee-high boots. She wondered if she should've put her hair up or something. Then again, Neal wasn't wearing like a suit, so she supposed it would be alright.

Then Neal shifted in his seat and dug in his pocket for something. It turned out to be a ring.

_A real engagement ring._

"Where the hell did you get that?" Emma blinked.

Neal held it out to her with a crooked grin. "I figured if we're gonna be fake-engaged you needed a fake-engagement ring. Well it's a _real_ engagement ring, but, not in spirit. Right?"

"Oh, well, yeah..." Emma gingerly took the ring. "It's...real? Like diamonds and gold?"

"Just don't drop it down any sink drains and it'll be fine," he promised. "Does it fit okay?"

It did. Just a bit loose, but not enough to go flying off her finger or anything. Okay. Now Emma was wearing a fake-engagement ring, pretending to look at wedding cakes for a fake-wedding with her fake-fiancé. These cakes had better be some really, really good cakes.

Neal stuck his hands in his pockets, nodding towards the convention center. "Ready for some free cake before this reaches sitcom levels of absurdity?"

"It hasn't already?" Emma snorted, falling into step beside him as they started walking to the doors.

* * *

There was a room off the main floor reserved for the cake sample tasting, with "WEDDING CAKE TASTING" printed on a sign taped to the door. Emma and Neal fell in with a group of other couples all waiting on the doors to open. And everyone knew they were closed.

Namely because one woman with monochromatic hair kept rattling on them about every three minutes.

The impatient woman was tall and skinny, with heavy make up that, at best, made her look like an Golden Age Hollywood actress, and at worse, a little like a well-dressed hooker. Emma couldn't decide which. Especially since she was wearing a huge, puffy white fur coat.

"Is she wearing a polar bear?" Emma whispered.

"I bet she scared the skin off it herself," Neal muttered back, and she snickered.

In addition, there was also a woman with a black pixie cut holding hands with a fair-haired man, a tall muscular black man and a pretty woman with a Hispanic accent Emma couldn't quite place, a very young couple who couldn't be much more than twenty and, unless Emma's eye deceived her about that barely-there bump, that girl would be eating free cake for two. Before Emma could study anyone else, a dark-skinned woman came up and dragged her fur-coated partner away from the door.

Ironically, less than a minute later, the same door swung open, and a small blonde woman wearing a green dress and holding a clipboard stepped out. She smiled and waved her feathery-topped pen in a 'line up' motion.

"Alright, welcome future bride and grooms!" she said with an Australian accent. At least Emma thought it was Australian. "I'll call out your names and you can come in and have a seat, okay? Scarlet and McQueen?"

A man with a buzz cut and leather jacket, arms linked with a blonde wearing a red-and-white striped dress, came forward with their print-out flyer for admission. Emma shuffled the papers in her hand so that that one was on top.

"Blanchard and Nolan?"

The girl with the dark pixie-cut and her fair-haired boyfriend passed by. A few other names came up and then it was: "Gold and Swan?"

Emma and Neal headed into the room, unaware of the florist booth occupant looking up at their names...

* * *

Neal pulled out a chair for Emma and plopped in the one beside it at a round table with six chairs. Emma sat down beside him and pulled out the same flyer they used for admission. There was _another_ sheet of paper ("So much for print is dead," Neal smirked, and Emma snorted,) in front of both of them with a list of bakeries and cakes supplied by said bakeries. There were six other tables set up besides theirs, and quite a sizable gathering of brides and grooms to be. Emma wondered if anyone else was just here for the cake...

Against the far wall, set up on long tables, were some sheet cakes that were theirs for the sampling. The lady with the clipboard clicked back in on her low heels and stood in front of the cake tables just as the Blanchard-Nolans sat down at the table with Emma and Neal. The lady checked her clipboard one last time and then called out for everyone's attention.

"Okay happy couples! Thank all for coming out today to the Happy Endings Wedding Fair, and there are a few things I wanna go over before we get to the cake. First off, there's a sheet at each table, and more up front here, for you to make notes on as you choose samples. There are cards on the table telling you what each cake is, and from which bakery. Allergy information is listed on the card as well. Please be sensitive of other people's food allergies, and do not cross-contaminate. Also, please, if you back to the table for seconds, please use a clean plate, we have plenty. The same goes for forks, and no, you cannot have 'just a bite' off a slice of cake on the table. They are precut into sample-size slices, for your convenience. Any other questions?"

"Do we get to eat now, darling, or are you going to start outlining legal clauses?" the monochromatic woman rolled her eyes, her partner rolling her eyes for different reasons.

The lady (Tink, her nametag read, weird,) just smiled. "Of course, you may begin at any time now. Me and my friend will be over here, in case you have any questions later on. Have fun!"

* * *

Seated at their table, each with a paper plate loaded with cake samples no bigger than an inch wide and three inches long, armed with plastic forks, they had their beloved free cake at long last. Emma had thrown five different samples on, but Neal had only put three on his plate. Emma noticed his cake slices didn't touch, their icing separated from blending likes hers were. She wondered if he was one of those people that didn't like their food touching.

And then she put the first bite in her mouth and cake was all that mattered. Her first cake was a lemon one with lemon-flavored white buttercream, and a reddish-pink raspberry filling. It was also delicious in a sweet-and-sour way. And gone much too fast. Shame, that, but Emma could then move on to the red velvet cake with the swirly pattern of chocolate icing on top of the traditional cream cheese icing.

Which was also delicious.

Beside her, Neal had his own red velvet slice and Emma hummed, pointing to it with her fork. "Try that, it's amazing."

Neal licked the chocolate ganache from whatever chocolate-overload cake he'd been trying off his fork so that it was, technically, clean, and dug up a forkful to put in his mouth. " _Mmmm_ , s'the good stuff," he agreed with a decisive nod. "Tastes like chocolate cake."

"That's what red velvet cake is," Emma said, stealing a hunk off his slice since hers was gone. "Red-colored chocolate cake."

"Yeah but sometimes it tastes too much like red," he gave a half-hearted stab at her retreating fork with his own. "And why are you stealing my cake?"

"You got a corner piece with all the icing, lucky bastard. And I finished mine already."

Neal smirked and suddenly stole a piece of one of her cakes. He popped it in his mouth and almost immediately his face crinkled up like he sucked on a lemon. Emma looked down at the sample he'd taken and tried to remember what that one was called as he swallowed thickly and coughed.

"Oh, what the hell was that? It tastes like a mouthful of perfume."

It was a white cake, with fluffy white icing dusted with sparkly sugar and a mint leaf garnish. Emma thought for a moment and then replied, "I think it was lavender-mint. Is it bad?"

"Like a mouthful of perfume," he took a large gulp from one of their complimentary waters. " _Blech_. I'm stealing another bite now, okay?"

He took a stab at another white cake on Emma's plate, and gave a pleased little noise at that sample. Then he stole another bite and Emma swatted his hand away and pushed her plate aside.

"Hey, hey!"

"It's awful," Neal shook his head, trying to tug her plate back towards his reach. "You'd hate it. Don't eat that slice Emma."

"Ooh, is that the white chocolate raspberry?" the lady with the dark pixie cut chirped, sitting down on the other side of Emma. Her boyfriend/fiancé/whatever he was sat down on the other side of her, his plate matching his bride's exactly. Emma wondered if she and Neal were supposed to get matching samples or not.

The woman held her hand out and Emma reflexively shook it. "I'm Mary-Margaret, and this is David. I know it's kind of silly but we've been putting off the wedding cake until the last minute because we didn't think it was important and now our wedding is barely a month away! When are you two getting married?"

Emma drew a blank, looking down at her fake-in-spirit engagement ring for a moment. Then Neal swallowed (had he stolen another piece of her cake?) and thrust his hand out to shake Mary-Margaret's.

"June. Her mother's insistence, gotta have a wedding in June," he lied so smoothly even Emma believed it for a moment. "Neal Gold and Emma Swan."

Another couple-the hooker-looking woman and her partner,-sat in the remaining two chairs. The monochromatic-haired woman snorted a bit as she sat down. "Oh dear. The Gold-Swan wedding."

"We're the De Vil-Marin wedding," the full-figured, dark-skinned woman beside her replied, mostly chocolate cake slices on her plate (one of which Emma tried to memorize because it looked really good,) and a warning look in her eyes pointed towards her fiancé. "I don't think we can say anything Carella."

"Well maybe you can't-"

"Oh is that the pink champagne cake?" Mary-Margaret chirped suddenly, looking at the pink-tinted cake on the woman's plate. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to try that one. How do they get the champagne flavor into a cake, I mean? Is it any good?"

"I hardly know darling," she sniffed, towing with her fork. "I haven't tried it yet."

Her partner simply rolled her eyes. Whether at Mary-Margaret or Carella, Emma couldn't tell. So, she followed Neal's example and turned back to her cake.

She agreed with Neal's critique of the lavender-mint cake- _it tasted like perfume_ ,-and polished off a cute slice of orange cake with buttercream that tasted like a cakey-creamsicle. She and Neal both went back for another plate of slices, and she noticed both she and Neal kept leaning towards the more chocolatey flavors. Although there was one vegan carrot cake (the only carrot cake Emma saw,) that was pretty badass.

David had apparently gotten some cake that was different than Mary-Margaret, because he fed her a bite off his fork. Emma pegged them for the lovey-dovey, dated-through-high-school-and-college types. She'd be shocked if 2.5 children and a dog weren't in their combined future. Unsurprisingly at all, they preferred the white cakes that were vanilla in all but name.

Carella and her partner (Ursula, Emma thought her name was,) were remarkably quiet now, save for the odd note they made on their little sheet. Or rather, Carella was noticeably quieter now. (Maybe she had blood-sugar issues and got cranky when she was hungry?) They seemed to like the fancy flavors...or alcoholic ones. Carella kept raving about some cake labeled as a White Buttercream Russian that Emma would rather not look to much into.

Just like she ignored how Carella had switched out her complimentary water bottle for one that Emma was 99% certain contained spirits...

"Try this one," Neal said suddenly, holding a bite of a chocolate cake sample out to her on his fork. "What do you think?"

Emma was not willing to be spo-uh, _fork_ -fed like the couple beside her, so she plucked the fork out his hand. (Neal also seemed down with that and simply folded his hands on the tabletop while he waited.) The cake was a sort of pale brown color, with chocolate ganache between the four thin layers, a fluffy white icing on the outside and little chocolate curls and a spatter of reddish-brown dust on top on the top. When she put the bite in her mouth...

She gave an unabashed little moan and rolled her eyes shut before turning them to Neal.

"It's a hot cocoa cake! Oh my _god_ , how did they do that?" She used his fork to take another bite and Neal pushed it closer towards her. (Wise man.) "It even has cinnamon on top!"

Neal smiled even though his brow crinkled, looking amusedly confused. "You take your cocoa with cinnamon on it?"

It was a completely innocent question Emma would think nothing about...except that, in hindsight he "should know" that because they were "planning" a wedding. And Carella obviously didn't miss that either.

"Some fiancé you have there darling," she sniffed, one brow bouncing up. "What sort of groom-to-be doesn't know something like that? You'd think he was only here for the free cake."

Emma paused her assault on the cake.

_Oh crap._

Neal, who thus far had always had an answer for Mary-Margaret's well-meaning-but-invasive questions, also seemed to draw up short.

Did Carella know? How much trouble could you get in for crashing a wedding cake tasting? Emma had been arrested before for petty crimes and truancy in her wild youth, but she'd never been kicked out of anywhere before. Or dragged out. Would they drag her out of her when they arrested her? It occurred, then, to Emma, that their silence was NOT helping prove otherwise...

She shot a half-worried, half-accusing look at Neal for opening his big fat mouth, and he had the good grace to look a little nervous himself. Good. He should be nervous if he got her arrested for asking how she took her hot cocoa-

Carella looked like she was about to say something else but then Ursula rolled her eyes and twisted in her seat to look at her.

"And you keep insisting a white Russian made with chocolate milk is the same thing as hot cocoa. Which it isn't," she held up a finger when Carella mouth fell open in exaggerated outrage. "By definition a white Russian is a cocktail of vodka, coffee liqueur and milk served over ice. How does that translate as hot cocoa?"

"That sounds more like a grown-up chocolate milk to me," David piped up with a broad grin and Emma was taken by surprise with a snort of laughter. She wasn't sure if she was relieved by the distraction or just shocked that David would make a reasonably clever booze joke. Probably both.

Mary-Margaret giggled, too, swatting his arm. "You better stay away from that mister! We both know you can't hold your liquor, and don't think I won't tell everyone two glasses of chocolate milk put you under the table!"

Carella then raised her eyebrows in surprise, looking at the couple. "Well I never would have taken you for such a lightweight, darling. Only _two_ white Russians? Why you're practically a featherweight at that!"

Neal laughed then, too, and Emma could almost feel herself relax. Her fake-fiancé nudged her under the table again and tapped on the sheet they were supposed to take notes on.

"So a hot cocoa cake it is?"

Emma grinned and nodded as he wrote down some notes she was to happy to read. It was probably adrenaline that had her so happy. It was probably adrenaline that kept that big grin on Neal's face too. And a willingness to keep up the charade.

Though a hot cocoa wedding cake didn't sound bad all of a sudden.

* * *

With way too much cake in their bellies, Emma and Neal were one of the first to leave the event. Emma said good-bye to Mary-Margaret and David, who had wished them good luck with their wedding. Fake wedding that is.

Neal had wrapped an arm around her shoulders, lightly, until they reached the door and he opened that for her. Then he started snickering and Emma couldn't help grinning. He had one of those contagious laughs and smiles, it was instinctive really.

"What's so funny?"

"I thought we were so screwed for a minute there," he chuckled. "And then I find out that mousy little woman can probably out-drink me! This has officially reached the height of sitcom absurdity, admit it."

Emma couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled for so long. "I'd rather not admit, per se-"

"Neal? Neal, is that you?"

The smile fell off of Neal's face, and the color drained away too. Emma turned around to see a woman coming from the nearby florist stall. She was shorter than Emma and she was wearing dangerously high heels at that. The tiny woman wore a navy blue dress with a pretty illusion neckline and she looked more like she should be working in one of the bridal fashion stalls with her glossy chestnut curls and bright blue eyes.

"Belle? What on-What are you doing here?" Neal's voice almost cracked and for one terrible moment Emma thought he was freaking out because she was his girlfriend.

Or ex-girlfriend.

No you wouldn't act like this over an ex-girlfriend, it had to be a current one, and-

The small woman with a distinctively Australian accent looked from Emma to Neal and bit her lip. "I'm helping my dad. Astrid slipped in the shower this morning and Leroy had to take her to the hospital. What are you doing here at an event for engaged couples?"

Emma's superpower wasn't tingling...and she noticed the girl was biting her lip to hide a smile.

She was trying not to laugh at them, wasn't she?

Neal didn't look mollified in the least, in fact, he looked like he wanted to bolt. "Uh...w-well, see, I-I mean...Emma Swan, this is Belle French, Belle French, Emma Swan."

Belle did grin then at Emma. "How do you do Emma?"

"Uh, good, good..."

"Well, I'm sure Neal will tell you this story and you'll both have a good laugh. Oh, and Neal?" she shifted her bright eyes to the taller man. "I won't tell your father about this, but you'd better have a good story to explain why you borrowed one of his engagement rings from the case without asking."

"He noticed?" Neal blurted.

"Your father notices everything in that shop, you know that."

"Ugh..."

Belle giggled, turning on her heels and clicking back towards the florist stall. "Have a nice day Emma! Neal!"

"Um..."

Emma was torn between asking Neal what she was missing and never wanting to know anything at all. Neal looked like he wanted to crawl into a nearby trash can and die. So Emma decided it was only fair to give him an out.

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"Uh...well...it's not as bad as you think...I guess," he rubbed a hand across his face before they started trailing towards the exit. "See...my dad runs Gold's Pawnshop on Main Street? So I borrowed an engagement ring from the jewelry case, nobody ever buys them so I didn't think he'd notice."

Emma plucked the offending ring off her finger gingerly, like it might bite. "Okay..."

"That's not really where it gets weird, ah, Belle? Yeah. She and my dad might be coming to this event someday 'cause they, ah, y'know. They're a thing."

Emma whipped her head backwards so fast she feared whiplash might occur.

"Her? She's what, twenty? Twenty four?"

"Twenty seven, I think," Neal shrugged, very carefully not looking back. "She's younger than I am."

Emma looked at him then, very closely. "And your dad is, what?"

"Just turned fifty," Neal confirmed, fidgeting his hands. "That's...that took some getting used to. Yeah. I mean she really mellows him out, I love Pops and all but I can't remember the last time he didn't wear a three-piece suit out in public and he's just about James Bond level sinister when he's cranky. He's not bad just, well Mom really did a number on him when she left. And Belle's a really sweet girl, she's not a gold-digger-"

"Oh my god," Emma gave a slightly hysterical giggle. "She so _is_!"

Neal groaned. "I _just_ heard that, I just _heard_ that!"

They walked into the parking lot and Emma hadn't quite quit laughing yet. When they climbed into Neal's yellow bug, she still hadn't managed to wipe the grin off her face. Then she looked at Neal and she giggled again.

"You realize that now is the peak of sitcom absurdity, running into your dad's girlfriend?"

"Yeah..." Neal chuckled. "We're lucky Belle's smart. Otherwise she'd probably thing we were engaged for real. I don't know what the hell I'm going to tell my dad though..."

Emma tapped a finger against her knee.

Hadn't she been saying, a few days ago to herself, that she didn't need a man? And hadn't she accused Neal of being a possible pervert for inviting her to play fake fiancé in the name of free cake? Well...when did that ridiculous situation turn into one of the best dates she'd ever had? And when did she start thinking of it as a date?

Maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it was.

But being with Neal was a helluva lot easier than some guys. And maybe they could just be friends...

Then Neal looked at her, buckling up, and he grinned widely.

"Think there are any other wedding events that we could crash while we're on a roll?"

"A roll? We've only been to one."

"And we didn't get caught, so we've got a perfect record."

Emma smiled. She'd done a lot of smiling today. Maybe she'd do more smiling next time they met too.

"Granny's also has a pretty good spice cake with cream cheese icing," she said.

"Maybe, but I like chocolate cake. Hence-" he held up the note paper that Emma had forgotten about. "-hot cocoa cake with cinnamon on top."

Emma plucked it from his hand and looked at his neat handwriting. "You know...I think I'm gonna frame this and put it on my wall."

"A souvenir of the craziest thing you've ever done?"

"No, a souvenir of the craziest first date I've ever been on."

Neal looked like she'd smacked him between the eyes. For a moment. "So..." his grin crept back slowly. "When you say 'first date', am I do read between the lines for a second date at Granny's in the future? Like, maybe seven on Friday in the future?"

"Sounds good."

Emma would be lying if she said it was just a spice cake with cream cheese icing that she was looking forward to on Friday.

**Author's Note:**

> I have created Swanfire and I revel in it.
> 
> Also, apparently I can't write OUAT without a mentioning of Belle/Rumple in there somewhere. Shame on me. Shame. :)


End file.
